ALL these words woke up
with your humble one.
Some may remember 'Slumlord Millionaire' the film about India, the new economical 'power' along China. Well, I have been thinking this brouhaha is similar to the one created by USA and their allies about the Paper Tiger, communism, during seventy years. How many people were killed, jailed, tortured for being communists? How many are left now?
How can a country that allows poison in candy, toothpaste, milk, buildings crumbling like cookies after an earthquake, and overcrowded become such an economical power as everyone juan claim?
Countries without paved roads, water sewage, electricity, some sort of efficient school, health system and systematic maintenance of infra structure are becoming powers just like that? For how long?
I was wondering if one book, Puerto Rico Then and Now, by one of our architects with no buildings to his name, Jorge Rigau, Thunder Bay Preses, irritated the hell out of yours truly.
If you look at the pictures in this coffee table book and place the whole in context, the aesthetic one, Puerto Rico, became uglier and uglier, decade after decade for the last 60/70 years.
In a similar fashion as China and India. Buildings, highways left and right, without any fore thought and respect for those structures with beauty and historical meaning or any plan for maintenance of infra structures.
Puerto Rico is a cow pie of concrete and asphalt, no economy, but more or as many economists as lawyers in Manhattan.
On nine eleven, at 8:50 I reached the sidewalk on the Canal St. subway station on my way to 111 Centre street, where I used to be an interpreter. I saw the hole in the north tower ten blocks down, with thousands of white typewriter papers flying, but no smoke...a few flames like in Towering Inferno.
I arrived to the court building at nine and noticed every juan was hysterical, acting like head less chickens over the phones. Hundreds of people walking down with dust and blood on their clothing.
It took them 90 minutes to decide to let us go home. After walking for five hours I was home. 736 W 186th street, off Broadway. Turned on the tv, to watch the news and made a few calls to inform the people I was fine. Ever since, when I hear one of those 747, often , I think of the hole in the tower and its aftermath...
that is that